


thus bescreen'd in night

by unhookingstarswithoutpermission



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Shakespeare Quotations, Trans Enjolras, implied non binary grantaire that goes by he/him pronouns, kinda clichey, kinda established relationship, there might be a lil bit of swearing, they're in highschool even though it's not stated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6933910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhookingstarswithoutpermission/pseuds/unhookingstarswithoutpermission
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Grantaire is not: </i>
  <br/>
  <i>a) allowed to go outside for the whole month</i>
  <br/>
  <i>b) capable of thinking of other ways to escape than the ones he's already tried (that have revealed themselves failures, anyway)</i>
  <br/>
  <i>c) a believer in romantic novels' plot devices that have a character saving the other from a dragon-guarded tower.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Grantaire is grounded. Enjolras doesn't care. Shakespeare ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thus bescreen'd in night

**Author's Note:**

> Idek what this is. Don't hate me. I was reading Romeo and Juliet and this popped into my mind and I had to write it down. I am not sure how I feel about it tho (???)  
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (I headcanon Grantaire as a non binary person who couldn't care less about pronouns, so I refer to him as he/him... idk, this hc means a lot to me)

Grantaire is not:

a) allowed to go outside for the whole month

b) capable of thinking of other ways to escape than the ones he's already tried (that have revealed themselves failures, anyway)

c) a believer in romantic novels' plot devices that have a character saving the other from a dragon-guarded tower.

The latter is the reason why, after a week spent trying to sneak out of the house and getting inevitably caught by his parents, he has ultimately resumed to thanking the inventor of the Internet for permitting him to keep in touch with his friends and has begun to enjoy his loneliness. He's actually quite an introvert, so being (forced to be) alone isn't exactly a problem, and it's not like his parents have no reasons to ground him – there are millions of reasons that could actually get him grounded for a very long time – but he is blamed for the wrong ones, for the ones that are problems just for his bigoted parents, as he has always been. It's scary how used he is to this treatment.

Moreover, he may not be the most extrovert person but he loves his friends and, even if they have taken all the chances they had to go to his house, it's not the same as when they would meet at the Musain and be truly, unapologetically themselves. And there's also his boyfriend – Grantaire is still amazed by the fact there is one, let alone by _Enjolras_ being the one – and Grantaire would love to spend some time with him. Alone. Possibly miles away from his parents.

And while he is not currently able to get even inches away from his parents' house, the whole forced-loneliness situation would be delightful – or at least manageable – even with this little inconvenience. It seems, though, that Enjolras has decided to show up to his house along all their other friends, and they are not comfortable showing PDA around them yet, so their interactions have been limited to quick pecks on the cheeks while Eponine somehow manages to shout silently that she wants to see them make out for real.

Grantaire's nightstand clock flashes one in the morning across the room when he acknowledges it, but that is not a good enough reason for him to put down his computer and actually sleep for a healthy amount of hours. Instead, he pauses the music that's blasting through his headphones and thinks that he might have a chance to successfully sneak out, since there is no one else in the house with him, but eventually decides against it, because going around the town at this hour of the night would be both crazy and useless. No one sane stays awake this late, right?

The exact moment he puts his feet on his bedroom's floor and thinks about going downstairs to the kitchen and finding something edible, he hears a knocking sound coming from somewhere inside the room. He should be frightened, but he is actually just surprised, because _who the hell_ would decide it's a good idea to tap his walls? 

But he locates the sound, at last, and he finds it comes from the window behind him. He knows that he's supposed to let it be, to just forget about it, or even better to call the cops – but maybe because his sixth sense kicks in, or simply because he's bored out of his goddamn mind and in search of something to entertain him, he is already facing the window and gazing through the glass, into the darkness of the night. There's a mop of light, blonde hair and a hoodie that he would recognise everywhere because it's his and he is sure he had lost it and he thinks he must be dead and in heaven and damn, was he stupid to be agnostic if god looks like this. He forces himself against leaving the boy outside his window there for a couple more minutes, just to see him struggle a little bit, and unlocks the window open.

Enjolras is graceful when he lands in his room, and even if he was neither careful nor gentle in his climb, and it's just a product of Grantaire's love-dazed mind – Enjolras' jeans are actually ripped a little bit, maybe from the branches that stuck out the tree nearer to the window – he still looks like a cat. Grantaire does not speak, not even breathe, until Enjolras is firm on his feet again and his light, angelic eyes have settled on Grantaire's face. There's something in the way he watches him, something warm that seems to contain the concepts of affection and relief and joy and amazement and simultaneously magnify them all, and it has made Grantaire's throat close and his stomach knot. He feels like he is in a goddamn novel and no, things like this do not happen in real life. Except sometimes they do.

“Grantaire”, Enjolras says, and the corners of his lips turn upwards in an infuriating smirk. Grantaire can not understand if it's caused by him openly staring at him or by the shock that must be displayed by his face, but he feels the impending need to kiss it away or to get himself on the same level with some witty remark. Both of them, possibly. And while he can't even bear thinking about the former without feeling his self control slip away, Grantaire does have a bit of attitude to rambling when he's caught by surprise and the whole situation is ridiculous, and all the alone time has had him reading every single book he owns, and the only words that come to his mind are, of course, Shakespeare's: “ _What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night so stumblest on my counsel?”_

He has a burning desire to smack himself on the forehead, because what the hell was _that_.

And of course he's reciting Juliet's part: he might not be at trouble with his gender anymore, and _yes_ , Enjolras has pulled a full-on Romeo on him, but there are better ways his dignity could be smashed in pieces. Also, he has not recited a single word the wrong way, and while that should make him fucking proud, it just makes him blush all the way up to the tip of his ears. His face feels on fire and he just wants an hole – possibly one directed straight to hell – to open up and swallow him whole. While his thoughts race, Enjolras bursts into laughters and steps into his personal space. “Grantaire”, he calls him once again, and it's sweet and soft and tentative, just as his lips are when they touch the other's. Grantaire is quick to react, pulling him in until there is no space between their bodies, smashing their mouths together with maybe just a bit too much enthusiasm, clinging to him and feeling like he's finally able to breathe again. He considers swinging his legs around his hips and locking them there, but decides against it, afraid of sending them both tumbling to the ground.

When they pull apart they can't get themselves to be aware of their surroundings, the longing for each other too strong to be sated with just a kiss – even if it was a wonderful one. Their foreheads rest together easily, like they are meant to, like there is no other way they could be, and Enjolras closes his eyes and breathes in. Grantaire smiles, just smiles, and it feels enough.

It takes what feels like ages for them to calm down, for their heartbeats to slow to a comfortable rhythm, and when they do they still are into each other arms, standing still in the middle of Grantaire's not-big-enough bedroom. It would be awkward with anyone else, or in any other situation, but right there, right now, it isn't. Grantaire doesn't know where he gathers his voice from, but he eventually manages to whisper the first word that's not in fucking iambic pentameters in the whole night. “Hi”, he breathes out, and Enjolras just repeats the word after him, like it's the only answer he has. Grantaire actually has millions of questions but he hasn't the strength to voice even one of them, so he just manoeuvres them around until they fall on his bed and they settle down, half-lying in each other arms.

A comfortable silence follows, at least until Enjolras pokes his sides and asks, “So, Shakespeare?”. The other guy becomes red in the face yet again, but he can feel there's no trace of judgement in his boyfriend's voice, so he cradles him and whispers into his nape: “ _How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here.”_

“I wouldn't have taken you for a Juliet”, Enjolras responds, and the smile on his lips is clear in the tone of his voice.

“And I wouldn't have even guessed you are a Romeo”, the other replies back, and Enjolras emits the littlest of huffs, that actually resemble a giggle. When Grantaire is sure he won't continue the conversation, he just states, “You haven't replied to my question”.

Enjolras turns around until he's facing him and wiggles his eyebrows. “Do you expect me to quote Shakespeare back at you? You know I have neither the memory nor the interest in the actual play-”

“I _do_ ”, Grantaire reassures him before he can start to rant and completely avoid the question. “I just want you to reply to the actual question.”

“Well, could you repeat what you said before? It might take a bit for me to decipher it-” Grantaire just can't believe how stubbornly Enjolras is escaping from both his question and his gaze, so he just becomes more curious and utters, slowly, “I just wanted to know why”, he says, without specifying why _what_. It could be why are you here, why would you climb all the way up to my room, why are you fucking _insane_ and have not just used the main door. He turns Enjolras around and now they're facing each other, and he can't help but urging to land another kiss on his lips.

Enjolras huffs and scoots closer to him, until his arms slide against his sides and he can hide his face in the space between his neck and his shoulder, where he fits so perfectly. “Missed you”, he murmurs against his skin, and Grantaire barely catches that. He smiles so wide that his cheeks hurt and leaves a kiss into his hair, replying “Me too”.

Silent moments pass yet again, and neither of them cares about what hour it is. Eventually they stop hugging but remain close enough to feel the comforting heat radiating from each other's body, and they slip in a conversation as easily as they had slipped into a kiss half an hour before.

“How are you?”, Enjolras asks – of course he does. “Up to date with all my TV shows”, Grantaire answers, and he knows he has hesitated and Enjolras has noticed. “Done some painting, read a couple of books.” He doesn't answer the question, but that's okay. Enjolras glares at him, which makes him add, “Actually, a _fuckton_ of books”, but then his boyfriend's hand slips into his and lets him know he doesn't have to give him an answer, and he's grateful for that. “How about you?”

“Fine”, Enjolras shrugs. “Same old life, even if it's harder to get on without you” he doesn't regret for a moment to have said that, not when Grantaire's eyes shine like stars and he kisses him again. Enjolras presses up against him, not caring about how needy he probably seems, because it's been too long since he has had the chance of making out with his boyfriend and he's not going to miss out on the opportunity.

“Have you been forgetting your binder on as usual?” Grantaire asks when his hands brush against his back and he notices Enjolras has the binder on. While the question's topic actually worries him, because Enjolras is the kind of guy that forgets what self-preservation means when his mind is focused somewhere else – which it is, frankly, all the time – he's asking way more than that: for example, he's asking _how have your parents reacted to the binder?_

Enjolras smiles his easy smile, the one he has when there's nothing in the world that could bother him. “You would be proud of me, I actually haven't. And I didn't even need someone to remind me-” Grantaire's surprised eyes turn suspicious. “-most of the time. Combeferre usually did anyway, so there was no harm done.”

He doesn't talk about his parents, so Grantaire doesn't say anything, knowing well enough that the expression on his face is doing all the talking. His eyes spark up at the other's just before he nuzzles his face into his neck, brushing semi-opened lips against the fair skin that's there. His hands come to rest on his hips like it's the simplest action in the world, and maybe it is. Everything is easy with Enjolras, but at the same time everything is so fucking difficult – Grantaire's mind goes back to words Enjolras has told him a while before: that it's hard, it's _scary_ , to be in a situation where there's nothing to understand and everything to feel. Maybe he was right.

“Taire?”, Enjolras whispers against his ear, and the air blown on his ear-shell is enough to make a shiver run through his whole body. He loves the nickname and he loves their proximity, but not nearly as much as he loves the way Enjolras' lithe body weighs down on his legs. “Yes, mon ange?” the words were not meant to escape his lips but they slip, once again with easiness, and, even in the dark, he notices how the other's cheeks become a darker shade of pink.

“Are you okay?”, his boyfriend asks once again, not even daring to look him in the eyes. This time the question is easier to answer, he just has to say yes or no, but he feels heavy nonetheless.

Somewhere along the line, Enjolras' right hand has landed on his chest, just below the place where his heart is. Grantaire feels like a needle is poking at the bubble of joy that sits around them, trying to pop it, and he just doesn't want to say anything, because he doesn't want this to end. Enjolras is a stubborn man, but he knows how to respect certain boundaries, and they have talked about it: there is no need to leave things unsaid, there is no need to lie to each other, and there is no need to be pedant when the other doesn't want to talk about something. They are determined to make this whole conversation thing they have established succeed, because it's obvious that communication – or, actually, the lack of it – is one of the main problems between the two of them. Grantaire almost laughs out loud because he has spotted another resemblances within their relationship and Romeo and Juliet's. He takes note to tell Enjolras about it later.

“I'm fine, now”, Grantaire exhales, and that's true. He can almost hear Enjolras' brain trying to work out the best way to ask him about how things are going between his parents and him, so he's quick to state, “I don't want to talk about it, I just want to stay close to you, can I?”

“You can”, Enjolras mumbles. “You always can”.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to know your thoughts about this! And please point out the mistakes there surely are, I'm not English and I don't have a beta, so whoops.  
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://unhookingstarswithoutpermission.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/imonthetardis)!


End file.
